right if she brought him a sandwich. With her track record, he’d get botulism. Even the cheerful thought of giving him an awful disease couldn’t propel her into action. She had her limitations, and after their earlier confrontation, she knew she was in no shape to confront a poodle, let alone a panther.
Her phone rang, startling her. Putting down the rag, she glanced at the caller ID. She groaned. Great. What a perfect way to round out a perfectly awful morning. She eyed the bottle of Excedrin and wondered how many constituted an overdose. “Hello, Mother.”
“Jennifer.”
It was an art, really, how one word could hold so much recrimination.
“I was starting to worry I’d never get ahold of you.”
Not up to another verbal battle, Jenny gave in with all the grace and humility she could muster. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have called you earlier.”
The apology went a long way to mollifying her mother. “It would have been nice, dear, but I understand you’ve been busy.” There was a pause, as if her mother was waiting for Jenny to fill in the silence. But when Jenny didn’t rise to the bait, her mom went on. “I was calling about tonight. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
Tonight . . . tonight. Jenny flipped through her recent memories like a mental card catalog. She struggled to remember, was just about to admit defeat when, “Dad’s birthday party. Of course I haven’t forgotten.”
“I thought we’d have dinner at seven. Nothing fancy. Your dad wants to try out his new grill.”
“Seven. No problem. And, Mom, don’t worry about the cake. I’ve decided to surprise Dad and bake him one from scratch.”
There was a short, horrified pause, and even after everything that had happened this morning, Jenny had the urge to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ll see you at seven.”
“Perfect. Oh, and Jennifer?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure you invite your new partner.”
SIX
It was after eleven when Jenny pulled into her driveway. She took the keys out of the ignition, started to open the car door, then paused. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the Corvette’s soft leather seat and let out a deep sigh. She was exhausted. Sleepless nights, battling with Jared, and then having to endure four hours of interrogation by her family had wrung her dry. The Spanish Inquisition had to have been a walk in the park compared to what she’d endured tonight.
She’d known there would be a high price to pay for ignoring her mother’s request to invite Jared to her father’s birthday celebration, but there had been no way she’d been about to spend one more moment in that man’s company than was absolutely necessary. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
Briefly, she deluded herself that he wouldn’t show. Tomorrow was Saturday. But deep down, she knew better. He’d be here. After their encounter earlier today, it was only too clear he enjoyed wreaking havoc on her already shaky world.
She let out another sigh. Thinking of him—of today— was a subject she’d been dancing around all afternoon. Remembering how she’d run like a coward didn’t sit well. She wasn’t proud of her reaction to finding him in the office, and it was a reaction she didn’t plan on repeating. Somehow, before tomorrow morning, she was going to have a plan on how to effectively deal with him. Thank goodness for insomnia. At least she’d have plenty of time to figure out what to do.
Jenny grabbed her purse and the leftovers her mom insisted she take home and got out of the car. As always, the first thing she looked to was the lake. At this late hour and with no bright moon high in the sky, the water was nothing more than a smooth black canvas that stretched as far as she could see. But just knowing it was there, waiting for her, was all she needed. In the quiet she could hear the water brushing against the pilings.
She was halfway to the front door when she knew something was wrong.
The porch lights.
They were on.
For anybody else, that’s how it should be. But Jenny could never seem to remember to turn the outside lights on when she left, a fact Steven and her whole family had berated her for on more than one occasion.
Panic squeezed her. The last night she’d come home and the lights had been on, her parents had been waiting for her inside her house.
“We’re so sorry—” her dad had begun, only to be stopped by her mother’s heartbreaking sobs.